


An Eye for Beauty

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Series: A Gathering of Tales [2]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 09:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: Once upon a time, there was beautiful little village full of happy hard-working people, who went about their normal lives full of joy and pride at their work. This is not a story about those people. This is a tale about a young man named Jace. His insatiable curiosity has led him to seek answers for questions no one has ever asked. To solve mysteries, and to find truths, behind long-told stories everyone else accepted as fiction.It is time for Jace to embark on his grandest expedition yet - to solve the mystery of this kingdom's missing monarchy. What will he find when he approaches the royal castle? A ruin, a curse, or a beast?Jace/Vraska - Beauty and the Beast AU.





	1. A Mystery for One

A long time ago, in a kingdom far far away, stood a beautiful country village, resplendent amidst fields of golden wheat and orchards so lush and green they were finest for miles around. Quaint thatch-rooved cottages surrounded a beautiful market square, full of vibrant stalls, plentiful produce and happy musicians who danced about the central fountain with the smiling village children. The village tavern was always full of merriment and cheer. The wells drew clear. The harvests were always bountiful. Everything was as it should be. Positions were accepted. Authority wasn’t questioned. No one complained about their labour. No one ever wondered what it would be like to move away, to chase their fortunes in the neighbouring city. Well, all except one man, but there was something strange about him.

And thus we meet the hero of our tale. Jace Beleren knew what it was like to live and work in the city. It had been a constant headache for him. Voices everywhere. You couldn’t turn for more voices, some spoken, others thought. It was like living in a beehive. Even if he tried to shut the thoughts out, he had to endure a constant buzzing in his ears. People had so many thoughts about everything! He just wanted somewhere quiet and peaceful where he could study and research undisturbed by inane chatter. In the city, not only did he have all the thoughts messing with his delicate mind-magic, there were also the machines. Despite the veneer stretched over every city, town or village, it was maddening when you knew where to look. Machines, maintained by a residual hum of magic. Every roof, every street corner, buried in bushes, suspended in lanterns. Machines to control the weather. Machines to filter the water. Machines to spy on citizens. Machines to make sure the flower beds bloomed exactly when the season required. Jace couldn’t go to the market without his mind being drawn to every single magical trace of machinery. So he had to move, far from the city, far from the machines. Out into the country where things, hopefully, would be simpler.

Yet once he moved into the sleepy village, he was faced with a new set of problems. To his joy, it was quieter. People kept regular schedules so he always knew when the village would be the most busy with chatter. There were also fewer machines and those that existed were dotted about the surrounding fields. He bought himself a nice little flat above a bakery and promptly filled it with books and papers. He scoured the local markets for more reading material, picking up bits of gossip as he went. His city-made attire and insatiable need to ask questions, quickly drew attention to his arrival. At first, the villagers regarded him with suspicion. However they soon came to the conclusion that Jace was completely harmless, but still exceptionally weird.

If you asked the book seller, or the baker, or the anyone really, they would tell you that Jace was extremely peculiar. He kept to odd hours. Often burning his lantern late into the night and walking around the square under the guise of ‘thinking’. He hoarded books like a dragon might gold. Constantly badgering the merchants for more tomes, demanding volumes on such outlandish topics such as geography, law, geology and mathematics. The villagers only ever wanted cookbooks, the occasional guide of housekeeping, and fun tales to keep their children amused before bedtime. The merchants struggled to keep up with Jace’s requests, before declaring him mad for asking.

What did he even do? Many people asked themselves. Jace had never been seen on a farm or in the orchards. He didn’t transport fruit or flour. His hands were too pale and flawless to ever have seen hard labour. Some said he solved mysteries. That he’d helped find lost pieces of jewellery, missing children, and uncovered the truth behind the odd writing that used to appear on the south well. He’d solved the problem of the mysteriously disappearing chickens. He’d even discovered what was making the weird noise in the fountain. Yet solving mysteries wasn’t a profession, at least according to the residents of this village. So by that logic, they had no idea what he did for a living. As a settlement of hard-working people, who were proud of their labour, this made Jace an outcast. Who wouldn’t show off their profession? What kind of person would shy away from village meetings, keep to his room all day and then wander around at night? Shady folk. Criminals. Vagrants. Sorcerers. Whatever he was hiding from them, Jace was a weird one, that was sure.

Jace however, had one particular quality in his favour.

Regardless of his oddity, he was very easy on the eyes. Beautiful, some called him. Though personally he wasn’t sure how he felt about that word as a twenty-something year old man. Blue eyed and fair, he was nevertheless picture-book pretty. With short chestnut hair that framed his face in neatly kept locks, he was slim but softer in frame than those who worked the fields. Whenever in public, he drew the gaze of everyone he passed. Enough so that he occasionally opted for a cloak and hood. He had the nervous sort of smile that made some want to mother him and others want to claim those lips for their own. Curiosity sparkled in his bright blue eyes, maintaining an element of youthful energy unfettered by years of repetitive drudgery. His laughter was music to the ears. All those qualities alone were enough to invite talks of marriage. People of all ranks wondered, if they married the beautiful stranger, could they cure him of his bizarre ways?

Needless to say, Jace did not want ‘curing.’

He was here to solve mysteries. To answer the questions nobody wanted a solution for. Once you pierced the veil and saw the artificial nature of this faerie tale world, you started to doubt everything around you. He knew magic existed. How could he not when he wielded it himself? However, magic had never been the all-encompassing saviour that people claimed it to be. On a grand scale, magic could change the weather, heal the dying, or trigger a complex set of machines. However, it was simply a tool for those who could use it, no better than a wrench or a set of pliers. Faith, belief, and superstition had nothing to do with how the world worked whatsoever. Throwing a penny in a wishing well only benefited whoever fished it back out. There was no point explaining your dreams to stars. Wishes were nothing but words unless you acted on them.

So here he was, in this quiet rural village, trying to solve the greatest mystery this kingdom had to offer. On paper, it looked simple. Just over fifteen years ago, this kingdom had a monarchy. A King and Queen who ruled over the land, and did all the appropriate royal actions – such as having knights, holding balls and sending ambassadors to neighbouring kingdoms. Then one day, there was no monarchy. No more audiences, no more balls, no more ambassadors. Rumours of disappearances, of witchcraft, or curses, filled the void that the King and Queen had left. No more knights patrolled the roads. No more heralds came to declare new laws. Over the following few years, cities started to rule themselves, becoming tiny kingdoms in their own right. The monarchy faded to nothing but a story. Yet as Jace found on many an occasion, these stories often stood rooted in fact.

Local lore said that the missing King and Queen had a daughter. A princess, who still resided in the large abandoned castle atop the kingdom’s highest hill. The castle itself was cursed. However that was where accounts started to differ.

The first story thought the King and Queen were still alive, but trapped in the accursed castle with their daughter. A witch had cursed the entire castle to put them in a magical sleep, before overrunning the castle ground in plant life to stop anyone wandering in to free them. Some said that this witch was now the Baroness of her own city, and the whole plot was to establish herself in a seat of power. If this was the case, then Jace’s job would be very simple. He would find a way in. Then use his own magic to dispel said curse, and the kingdom would have a King and Queen again. He assumed having a monarchy was better than the violent feuds being fought between many a city.

The second story was a bit trickier to manage. In this version, the King and Queen were dead. They had been suddenly struck by an illness and died, leaving their daughter, the Princess, the ruler of the entire kingdom. How she coped with that, the story didn’t say. However, she clearly didn’t cope well, Jace thought. One night the Princess was supposedly visit by a strange beggar woman, who pleaded with her to let her into the castle. The Princess refused the woman and kicked her out. It turned out that this strange woman was actually a witch. She cursed the Princess into the form of a hideous beast. There she remained to this day, trapped in her monstrous form. The curse would remain until she learned enough compassion for a brave prince to fall in love with her and his affections to be returned.

Jace wasn’t sure he liked the moral of that story. Anything that condoned letting strangers into your house, especially after you’d just lost your parents, didn’t sit right with him. However, those stories were all the information he had on the matter. It was as if the King and Queen had been wiped from existence over the last fifteen years, with nothing but personal anecdotes and children’s stories left to trace them by. No one wanted to visit the castle in case the beast story was true. Which seemed silly to Jace. How were you going to know without looking?

He had chosen this village because it was closest to his quandary. The royal castle stood tall and austere above the neighbouring forest, black spires piercing through the horizon like many needles through cloth. It would still take most of a day to get there, but this was the closest settlement. No one lived in the woods except the occasional roving hunter, someone who was equipped to deal with a large number of wolves. Admittedly, Jace wasn’t much a fighter himself, but he had talents that could help him get away from multiple hungry canines. Besides, he was only going to travel during the day. He’d heard from a reliable source that the wolves were nocturnal. And so, Jace set out bright and early. He’d hired a horse and filled the saddlebags with everything he needed to get to the castle, investigate, camp overnight and return. It would be easy, he told himself, as he packed up his maps and notebooks. A nice journey out, a chance to search an abandoned building, and then a trip back. Simple. Content that he had everything he needed, he set out, much to the bewilderment of his neighbours.

Jace enjoyed the first part of the journey. It took him through the beautiful farmland that surrounded the village. There was birdsong in the air and the sun beat pleasantly upon his back. However, he couldn’t help but notice the ominous grey clouds on the horizon, hanging low over the forest ahead. He frowned at them, but paid them no mind. Once he was under the trees, he wouldn’t even be able to feel the rain, right?

Wrong.

Thunder boomed overhead as lightning struck a nearby oak. Jace let out a cry of frustration as he tried to calm his panicking horse. Rain pelted them like sling-fodder, heavy pellets of water striking with the force of iron before soaking him to the bone. The trees shook and creaked under the force of the wind that tore at their branches. It was all Jace could do to cling on, his horse bucking and rearing as it galloped petrified through the dark woods. Jace tried to link his mind to its, but was met with a wave of roiling terror, too strong for even his skills to overcome without wrecking the horse’s mind completely. He desperately tried to think calming thoughts, pushing the horse on, promising that they would find somewhere safe and dry soon. Yet there seemed to be no end to the forest and certainly no stop to this weather. Lightning dashed through the sky overhead. With a cry not unlike a scream, Jace’s horse reared with such strength that he was thrown off, several feet away into the mud. Free of its rider, the horse promptly bolted. Hooves kicking up muck as it vanished deeper into the forest, almost back the way he’d come. Jace let out a cry of his own as he realised that most of his supplies remained in the horse’s saddlebags, still firmly attached to the horse. Pummelled by the wind, he shakily got to his feet. Now what? He dimly assessed what he still had on him. His cloak, his coin purse, a small knife, and some trail rations. He’d also gained a lot of mud. Thanks horse.

He scowled beneath his hood, the dark fabric sticking to his face, already soaked through. He was several hours away from the village. The rain would surely drown him, or make him very sick, if he wasn’t struck by a tree or a branch first. Still, he was a man of logic, he could find a way to logically make this situation better. Right Jace, he told himself as he sank an inch deeper in the mud, time to try and find some positives about this situation.

He wasn’t dead. That was a good start. The horse could easily have trampled him and he would have been very lost and very dead. Also, he was on a road. It was a well-kept road too, meaning it was maintained for frequent travel. If he carried on down the road he might find another traveller, or, at least somewhere dry where he could wait out this storm. His plan of action had been laid out before him in stone slabs and gravel. He just had to keep following the road and he’d be able to work out what to do from there. Everything should be fine, as long as he didn’t encounter any of those aforementioned wolves.

“Fiddlesticks.”

On the plus side, it had eventually stopped raining. However, Jace was too busy fleeing for his life to think of plus sides right now. As his lungs burned and his legs screamed at him to stop, he had no choice but to keep on sprinting. His life literally depended on how fast he moved, and even the kick of adrenaline wasn’t making up for the very plain and simple fact, that he wasn’t built for this. His happy place was behind a desk, with a nice cup of tea and a couple of books. His most unhappy place, was _this -_ slipping and stumbling through mud whilst being hunted by a pack of snarling wolves. Each wolf was easily twice the size of him. As soon as they caught up with him, he surely would be ripped in two. Willing his legs to find inspiration from these facts, Jace scrambled through a thick cluster of trees. He had long abandoned the road. It was like giving the wolves a running track to chase him down. If he was going to be slowed down by nature then so were they. The problem was, they knew where they were going.

He heard a distant howl and his heart felt like it was about to sieze up and stop. More wolves. More bloody wolves and he hadn’t escaped the first lot! He dashed around a large jagged rock, protruding out the ground like his eventual gravestone. Would he even get a grave? Did anyone from the village care that much? Yet as he ran, he noticed that the rocks were getting more numerous, and much more purposeful. He encountered a low stone wall, almost covered entirely in ivy, and then another, taller this time, wedged amongst a pair of trees. Lungs searing with agony, he followed the masonry with a desperate hope to find some sort of hiding place at the end of the trail.

For once the world smiled kindly on him. He didn’t find _some sort_ of hiding place.

He found an entire castle full of them.

A wrought iron gate stood partially ajar between him and the forest. He slipped inside without a second thought, pushing the gate closed behind him and backing away. He could see the wolves approaching through the gaps in the black iron. Yet they seemed hesitant to even get near the gates. Slowing his pace to a stagger he put as much distance he could between himself and the wolves. Their eyes remaining fixed on him before one by one, they disappeared back into the woods.

Breathing hard, Jace sank to the cobbled ground beside a stone wall lined with empty planters. His legs trembled, shaking the rest of him so hard his teeth rattled. It was only when his heart rate lowered to something resembling normal, that he was able to take in his surroundings.

He’d found the castle. It loomed overhead, dark against the cloudy sky that threatened yet another storm. There were no lights in its windows and no signs of life in its grounds. The front gardens were thick with knotted bushes, wiry trees and an enormous amount of tumbling weeds. Cautiously getting to his feet, Jace took a few steps towards the wide set of double doors, visible even from this far down the driveway. The castle had probably once been beautiful. As he approached, he could see traces of its former glory. A broken fountain here, a marble arch there. An old carriage lay on its side in the bushes, paint still peeling off its exterior, once a bright white with gold detailing, it was now a rusted ruin. He wondered if there was a body in the carriage, or a skeleton perhaps, but the bushes were too thick to allow him past. His little knife did nothing. He wondered why he’d even brought it.

The driveway opened up to a large circular courtyard, surrounding what had once been a grandiose fountain. A little water remained in it, but it had congealed green with moss and algae. The cherub on top of the fountain had lost its face to the weather and the passage of time. Yet far more impressive, or perhaps disturbing, than the lone cherub, were the other statues lining the courtyard. These ones were in far better condition, seeming almost new compared to their crumbling surroundings. They were all people, but the wide variety of people, surprising Jace. Surely royalty would put up statues of their family? Or of local heroes? However, as far as he could tell there was nothing royal or heroic about these figures. The first one he came to was a man in plate armour. He had strange crest on his shield, which he was holding aloft as if trying to cover his face from something above. Jace followed his gaze but only found stone walls and an open sky. The man was pictured mid-battle, his sword held firmly in one hand as if he were about to strike the thing from above. Yet he fought nothing. There was nothing there.

The next statue was three people, all dressed in mismatched armour that perhaps had once been leather. They had bags on their backs and sacks tied to their belt loops. They each bore weapons, shortbows, knives, one had a longsword. Two seemed to carrying the third, whose leg was at an odd angle. They were limping towards another statue, a man in a tricorn hat. He had his arm outstretched, a thick glove upon that arm like a falconer. Jace stared at him, taking in his fine clothing and deciding he had nothing to do with the trio approaching him. He had a sword at his hip, a delicate looking rapier, that was nothing like any of the weapons he’d seen previously.

One by one, Jace looked at the statues. Men, women, even a few children. This wasn’t a scene, it made no sense. Most of the statues weren’t even facing the middle, they were just jumbled about the square in a weird presentation of human life. The statues were exquisitely made, the detailing incredibly lifelike. Such craftsmanship deserved a plaque, or at least a plinth, but none of these statues had either. As Jace completed the circle, he came to realise that they all shared one thing. Each statue had a look of shock, or perhaps horror, in their eyes. Jace gave a little shiver as thunder rolled overhead. He looked up just in time to be smacked in the face by the rain. Face smarting, he hesitated for only a moment before sprinting towards the front doors.

One door was ajar enough to admit a single soggy mage, but did enough to keep the inside hall from being drenched. Jace skidded to a halt in a wide circular antechamber as one by one, the candle-holders on the walls burst into flame around him. When the travelling bursts of light reached the door frame, the little space there had been closed shut. The resulting thud set Jace’s nerves on edge, but thankfully drowned any noise from the storm outside. On impulse, Jace felt about with his magic. The candles and their holders were enchanted. That much was easy to guess. The door closing mechanism seemed to be mechanical however, triggered by light level. Jace shook his hair like a dog, but it did little to aid his current state of wet. He extended the reach of his magic detection and was suddenly surrounded by that awfully familiar buzzing. He shut it off. Ok. Castle was magical. Castle was very magical. Should he just camp here until the storm was done? Or did he start his search, considering he’d made it this far?

No sooner had he asked himself that, then another door opened in front of him. It was also one of two double doors, positioned directly opposite the entrance. The lighting rippled, candle flames taking it in turns to burn a rosy pink, the waves of colour directing him towards the new entrance. Eager not to offend the magical castle, Jace took its invitation and followed the light through the door. It led him down a narrow corridor, gently lit with more flickering candles, and towards a small parlour. There a fire crackled merrily in the grate, casting a warm glow over a low table, a comfortable looking armchair, and a large wooden chest. Jace looked around for the room’s occupant but found none, just a plate full of bread, meats and cheeses placed in the middle of the circular table, accompanied by a fully-stocked fruit bowl and a tall bottle of what looked like wine. As Jace stared, a plush velvet stool withdrew itself out from underneath the table. The fire flashed pink just like the candles, beckoning him over.

“Is-Is this for me?” he asked, directing his question at the fire.

It flickered pink again.

“I-I know I’m not supposed to accept food from strangers,” he said, eyeing the corners of the room as if someone was going to leap out at him now he’d been lulled into a false sense of security.

“But I’m not sure how that applies to magical castles.”

The fire flickered again and the stool gave an insistent wobble. Jace hesitated for a moment more before obediently taking a seat.

He didn’t regret it. The warmth of the fire was divine after the thorough drenching he’d received outside. The heat washed over him like he’d plunged into a hot bath, relaxing his tired muscles, releasing a tension in his back that he hadn’t even known was ailing him. Now closer, he realised there was a set of coat hooks next to the fire and hung his cloak up on one, hoping that would help dry it out. When he returned to the table, the platter of food had slid closer to him, as well as the bottle of wine. Jace considered them for a moment. He really wasn’t supposed to accept food from strangers. That was survival tip one in wherever you found survival tips. He hadn’t actually read any survival books but he assumed that’s where your advice came from. He didn’t know what this house’s intentions were. It had made sure he was warm and dry, but for what purposes? Was it planning to trap him here forever? Or was it just helping a lost soul? There was no way of him-

“Ow!”

Something flew at his face and hit him square between the eyes. It bounced off and onto the stone floor beneath his feet. Searching for it, Jace peered around before realising what it was. A solitary grape.

“What the- ow!”

Another grape hit him in the ear this time. He turned to glare at the fruit bowl, which remained absolutely stationary, like an inanimate bowl should.

“What was that for?” he demanded.

It said nothing. It was a bowl.

He went back to contemplating the platter before him. As he was thinking, there was no way of him knowing whether the castle was acting for good or for ill. This could be a death trap. This house could be fattening him up so it could then eat him. Just-

“Fuck!”

The grape got him right in the eye. He grabbed his face wincing as his eye watered from its fruit-based assault. Jace was feeling very attacked right now, all because he was being sensibly cautious!

As another grape whizzed past his hair, he grabbed a slice of bread off the platter before him and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Areyouhappynow,” he mumbled through a mouthful of soft white bread. He got no reply from the furniture but quite frankly he preferred it that way. Besides, this was _really_ good bread.

Caution thrown to the winds that still battered at the windows, he hastily ate his way through the entire platter, and most of the grapes, so he would be free from his fear of them. The meal was washed down by a glass and a half of wine. Jace wasn’t really a wine person, but everything here was just so delicious, he couldn’t resist. The bread was so soft and fresh, it was still slightly warm to the touch. He couldn’t name all the different meats and cheeses, but each was as tasty as the other, rich with flavour, far more delicious than anything he had tried in the village. By the time he was full, he felt safe, warm and more than a little sleepy. Whilst his cloak still dripped upon the floor, his clothing had dried out a bit due to his stay in front of the fire. He was considering moving to the armchair and dozing off, when the candles started flickering once more, guiding him to a side passage he had neglected to notice before. Leaving his cloak to drip where it was, he followed the passage to a small guestroom, taken up almost entirely by a four poster bed. A smaller fireplace burnt opposite, recently-extinguished, the ashes still glowed slightly and the room was ever so warm. Wondering if the castle would start assaulting him with pillows if he refused, Jace took off his shoes and put them near the fire. He hesitated for a moment before also taking off his shirt and breeches, wanting them to dry out fully too. Being naked in a strange magical castle didn’t appeal to him right now, so he kept his vest and underwear on as he slipped under the covers.

“Good night,” he said to the castle, as he sank into the blissfully soft mattress, “Thank you!”

The castle said nothing in reply.

That night, Jace had a very peculiar dream. He was in this castle, but everything was bright and colourful. People streamed in and out of doors. Music came from the entrance hall. Laughter and conversation echoed off the walls which were lined with colourful banners and tapestries. He stood in the middle of a grand ballroom, lit by hundreds of candles in wondrously intricate chandeliers. He was dressed like a nobleman, tailcoat, tight trousers, frilly cravat, and he was waiting for something, no someone, to come join him. Then she did. Tall and proud in a gown of emerald green silk, the Princess glided across the ballroom in a shimmer of skirts. She was beautiful beyond compare, slim yet lightly muscled, her gown hugging her figure like a second skin, emphasising the curves of her hips and the brush of lace against her breasts. Jace couldn’t help but stare as she approached him and she laughed as she noticed the direction of his gaze. She placed the tip of one finger against his chin, lifting his gaze upwards to her face as if to remind him where her eyes were. And what eyes they were! Golden-orange, glowing warmer than the fire. The heat settled over him, desire burning bright for this gorgeous woman. She appeared to know how he felt, how overwhelmed he was by her presence, for she smirked a little as she leaned down for a kiss.

Jace was roused from his sleep by the sound of a kettle whistling in the adjacent room. Never one to let a kettle overboil, he leapt out of bed and hastened back down the side-passage, towards the little parlour. Just as he reached the doorway, the whistling stopped. Assuming this was the castle reacting to his presence, he stepped into the room, wondering what awaited him there this morning.

What awaited him was a flash of gold, a glint of metal, and a blade to his throat.

Jace let out a squeak as he was promptly driven against the nearest wall, razor-sharp blade aimed perfectly at his jugular. He was too scared to speak, too scared to swallow as the sword’s wielder stepped out of the shadows.

A woman with snake-like tendrils for hair advanced on him, hair whipping furiously about her as if caught in the stormy winds. Her golden eyes were narrowed at him, full of rage and suspicion as she followed the edge of her blade. Slowly, she raised the tip, forcing Jace’s chin up with it so the firelight better illuminated his features. He kept his gaze fixed on her, feeling himself break out in a sweat as she got ever closer.

She had grey-tinted skin, mottled with what look like patches of greenish scarring. This early in the morning, all she wore a simple white nightgown, low at the neckline and fastened with a black velvet ribbon. The fabric was semi-translucent before the light of the hearth, which was not helping Jace’s predicament at all. Said predicament had arisen partially due to his sleep-addled state but mostly due to that dream he’d been having. He didn’t know he was into being held at sword-point by gorgeous scantily-clad women but apparently, he was. He gave a little shiver as he recognised the woman and pretended it was because of her gorgeous eyes and not her cleavage.

She scowled at him.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.”


	2. Rules of Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero has been held at swordpoint by a beautiful yet deadly foe. Can he negotiate his way out with his throat intact? Or has has his brave adventure finally come to an end?

_“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.”_

Jace made a small squeaky noise, like a mouse being stepped on.

“Wrong answer,” the woman replied, the tip of her blade lowered slightly, grazing against his Adam’s apple. Jace wanted to swallow but felt like he would do himself an injury.

“It-it would make a mess of your parlour,” he stammered, “The spray from-from throat slitting is quite violent and-and you’d have to clean all that up. You-you don’t want such a chore, do you?”

She considered him for a moment. Her eyes darting from his pale terrified face to the unrepentant bulge in his undershorts.

“Why are you here?” she spat, the coiling of her hair almost mesmerising as her scales glittered in the firelight. The hilt of her blade gleamed with the orange of the flames, as fierce as her eyes and just as deadly. Jace found himself utterly transfixed by her beauty, unblemished by the fact she could very easily skewer him.

“I-I was travelling,” he managed, “To-to find out what happened to the royal family. And-and my horse ran away and I got chased by wolves and-and then the castle let me in.”

She cocked her head a little to the side.

“The royal family?” she repeated, “Why do you care about the royal family?”

“I’m-I’m a detective,” Jace mumbled, wishing she’d move the blade back just a little bit. He was sure she’d grazed the skin and he was terrified he’d accidentally drive the blade deeper.

“I-I solve mysteries, it’s my job. And no one, no one has seen the royal family in so many years. The dukes are warring against each other and making everything miserable I-I… wanted to find out what happened to them and maybe help?”

He let out a small hiccup of fear.

“I-I didn’t mean to offend anyone by it. I just-just wondered if they were in trouble and-and needed some assistance.”

She let out a low hiss that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“So you come into my home,” she replied, “Eat my food. Drink my wine. And make yourself comfortable in _my_ halls.”

That wasn’t strictly true!

“The castle invited me!” Jace squeaked, “It-It insisted! It even pelted me with fruit when I refused to eat!”

She glared at the fire, which dimmed itself in fear, flickering first pink, then green then back to its usual array of yellows and oranges. She sighed and with one smooth motion withdrew her blade. Jace slid down the wall a little in his relief. Saved by the castle yet again… He truly needed to find out whether this place was sentient or just full of some very clever enchantments. Whatever the case, he needed to thank somebody for saving his hide.

“You are trespassing,” the Princess announced, turning back to the neglected kettle, “And trespassers must be punished.”

Jace didn’t dare move until she was done talking.

“As you seem so comfortable here,” she continued, “Then here you will stay.”

She whipped round once more, making him jump and yelp. One hand on her hip, her lips curled into a smile as he quailed before her. Even her smile was gorgeous. Gods help him, he’d never been so simultaneously terrified yet turned on, and he’d once slept with a sea-witch!

“Your punishment is imprisonment. Here in this castle, with me, for the rest of your miserable existence,” she declared, “This castle shall be your tomb, like it has been for so many miserable wretches before you. It will feed you, clothe you perhaps, but you will waste away in these halls. Waste away in the silence, in the company of the Beast.”

“B-Beast?” Jace stammered. She raised an eyebrow at him. When it didn’t seem like he was messing with her, she took a step closer. Then another. She crossed the small parlour in three long strides and stood before him, almost nose to nose. He could see the magic swirling in her eyes, like pools of molten gold. He could count her every eyelash, green-tinted like her scales but dark and beautiful. She smelled like soap, floral, almost certainly lavender. A low hiss escaped those perfect lips, revealing the edges of pointed white teeth.

“The Beast,” she hissed, “Stands before you. A hideous monster. A nightmare made real.”

What?

She was the beast? She didn’t look like a beast at all! What was she on about?

“But-but you’re beautiful,” he protested, before realising how forward he sounded, “I-I mean you don’t look like a beast at all. You’re not hideous in the slightest.”

She looked at him as if he had gone mad. Jace found himself staring resolutely back. She believed she was a monster? Ok, the snake-hair and the pointy-teeth weren’t exactly human, but they lived in a world where mermaids and unicorns existed. What was strange about having a few fantastical additions to your body? She continued to watch him, unblinkingly, as if not quite sure what he’d do next. Her predatory hiss had faded and her hair had fallen strangely limp about her features. As the silence continued, her leer or a smile faded, leaving a slight frown on her face. There was only one conclusion Jace could draw from this - his statement had utterly thrown her.

“H-Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?” he tried, “I mean, I would, if I were you. You’d make the most beautiful picture. I-I mean painting. I’m not trying to objectify you or anything! I wouldn't dream of reducing you to how you look. B-But you’re clearly a very gorgeous and talented woman, who can definitely hold her own with a blade. And you’re the princess too so you must be-be really smart and have learned all sorts of things. And-And I just thought it was a shame that you thought yourself hideous when you’re actually really really pret-“

She held up a hand and his babbling instantly ceased.

“You are disturbed,” she told him, taking a step back. Jace was almost certain there was a green tint to her cheeks that hadn’t been there previously. Was she blushing?

“It matters not however.” She took a step back towards the fire.

“This place is cursed. I am cursed. And you shall be too when you remain here. Welcome to the Royal Palace –“

She glanced at him, one arm out-stretched.

“Jace,” he filled in, “Jace Beleren.”

She nodded, looking pleased with his obedience.

“Welcome to the palace Mr Beleren. It is time to set down some rules.”

However dramatically she delivered them, her rules were rather simple. He was not allowed to leave the walls of the castle, not even into the overgrown grounds. He was only permitted to eat and drink what the castle provided for him. He would wear only what was presented to him. He would be grateful for what he was given and was forbidden from disturbing the peace. Disturbing the peace was loosely classed as wrecking the place, making ungodly amounts of noise, or letting feral animals into the property. He would not run down the stairs or make single sound in the library, but otherwise was free to move about the castle as he wished. The entire building was open to him:

“Except,” the Princess informed him, playing with the tip of her blade, “The left hand wing on the third floor. If I find you in there, I will flay you inch by wretched inch.”

Judging by how lovingly she caressed her blade, he took that threat quite seriously

“Any questions?” she demanded.

Jace certainly had one. She was certainly the princess from his dreams. No one else had eyes that, and that wasn’t even considering what lay beneath them. Yet, throughout her long tirade about knowing his place, she hadn’t once mentioned what he should call her. She’d called herself the Beast, but there was no way Jace was going to address her as that. He could call her Princess, but that seemed overly formal considering they were the only ones here.

“What do I call you?” he asked, “You have my name. But I don’t have yours.”

She seemed to think long and hard about this.

“You may call me…” She ran one finger down the length of her blade.

“ _Mistress.”_

Jace gulped and pretended that hadn’t gone right to his loins.

“Or, if I permit it – Vraska.”

That sounded more like a name.

“D-Do you permit it?” he asked. If he was stuck calling her Mistress he was going to start having problems with light-headedness, what with his blood constantly rushing south.

“Pardon?” Vraska replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

He instantly realised his mistake.

“D-Do you permit it, _Mistress_?”

She smiled at him and his heart leapt.

“I’ll let you know when I do. Now, go get dressed will you. I don’t want you dying to the common cold.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she returned to the kettle, he scrambled back down the corridor towards the bedroom. His bedroom? It looked like he might be sleeping in it for quite some time. Somehow, after that little encounter, he didn’t mind that as much as he should. It was _supposed_ to be terrifying. Trapped, miles from civilisation, in a creepy old castle with a woman who would probably murder him if he stepped out of line. However she hadn’t. And her imprisonment wasn’t exactly a punishment. Sure he couldn’t make too much noise or go into one specific wing of the castle. That was probably just where she slept and she didn’t want him walking in on her changing. No, he’d come to investigate the old royal palace, and he now had the chance to do just that. He could inspect this place from top to toe, go through every archive, walk through every archway. He knew which story must be true now. The princess herself had told him she was cursed. He couldn’t imagine Vraska, no, the Mistress, being too hospitable to a random old beggar woman. Her hostility had made the witch curse her into this monstrous, though still incredibly beautiful, form. Jace couldn’t bring himself to call her a beast though. She was far too human for that. He wasn’t a princ, but who knew? Maybe if he worked at it, he could be the brave and handsome hero the story described? He could be kind and remind her how good compassion felt and maybe, just maybe, she’d be free of the curse. She clearly hated it. She had called such terrible things. Perhaps with his help, she could come to love herself again? In the meanwhile… Jace blushed as he sat on his new bed and glanced down at his still very pressing problem.

Well, he’d deal with this situation first.

* * *

Having a prisoner was surprisingly complicated. Vraska had rather liked the idea of keeping someone alive so they could suffer in this place with her. Misery loved company after all and company was certainly something she’d been without for a very long time. All her previous intruders had ended up as statues by the front doors. She’d had no patience for idiots who thought they could slay her and rob the place. However, this new arrival didn’t seem to be after anything of the sort. Perhaps that was why she decided to keep him around. At first, the idea seemed splendid. There would be someone in the castle with her. Someone who was evidently very good at following orders and doing as he was told. She was quite proud of her attempts to intimidate him. They had clearly gone very well, what with all the stammering, quailing and general subservience. With the castle looking after him, she didn’t need to worry about feeding or clothing him, and they could both be miserable together.

Now could he please just shut up and be miserable?!

For the first week or so, she lost him to the depths of castle. This was quite understandable. He needed to explore the stony halls of his tomb and discover quite how doomed he was. She got the impression that the castle had given him a better bedroom. Whenever she went to check the doorkeeper’s quarters, he wasn’t there. His clothes and shoes had moved too, which led her to believe he’d got up and moved. He couldn’t have escaped. She’d instructed the castle to keep all exterior doors locked so he couldn’t run out after she’d dealt her punishment. However, after about ten days of not seeing him, she went back to her usual routine as if he’d never appeared in the first place.

And then of course, he made his presence known.

Vraska had been minding her own business, curled up in her favourite armchair. Said seat was in the warmest part of the library - the little section where the light from the stained glass windows made everything bright and sunny. She relished in the heat dancing off her scales as she poured over yet another novel. This one described a far off beach where dolphins leapt amongst the waves and little boats brought star-crossed lovers back together after being separated by war. She liked happy endings. She didn’t need to read about other people being miserable when she could feel that perfectly well by herself. She wanted to experience what life was like beyond these walls, beyond the forest, in places she’d never see, on shores she’d never visit. Where else could she do that but here, in her own library? There were millions of book on these shelves, everything from children’s poetry to lengthy encyclopaedias. The world had been categorised for her shelf by shelf, labelled so she understood everything that met her gaze. Well.

Everything except him.

“Holy shit.”

She looked up from her novel just in time to see him standing, stunned, in the middle of the central aisle. He stood gawping up at the domed ceiling, painted to look like a summer’s sky. Mouth remaining open, he took a step back to stare at the immensity of the surrounding bookshelves. He clasped one hand over his mouth before hastening to the nearest shelf, reaching up on tiptoes to read the highest spines he could. At the sight of them, he let out a small giggle of excitement that echoed throughout the cavernous space.

“Quiet in the library,” she reminded him, her voice also echoing off the architecture. He jumped and immediately turned to locate her. Hurrying down the aisle, he approached her cosy spot. She watched him coolly over her novel as he stepped into the warm sunlight. Jace opened his mouth, again, seemingly about to speak, but no words came out.

“Yes? She raised an eyebrow at him as he closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again.

She rolled her eyes, deciding this was another of his oddities before going back to her book. The lovers were about to buy themselves a house by the shore and she really wanted to know how they planned to rebuild the ruined cottage to make it their own.

“W-“ Jace managed. She looked up at him again.

“W-“ he tried again, “Where are your clothes?”

She glanced down at her billowing white shirt, taking in the lace collar and similarly frilled sleeves. then stared back up at him.

“I’m wearing them,” she replied.

“Y-You’re wearing a shirt,” Jace stated, “Just a shirt.”

“I have underwear,” Vraska didn’t feel the need to show a stranger her lace knickers but she was definitely wearing them.

Jace swallowed heavily, as if this had done nothing to assuage his concerns.

“Where are your trousers?” he asked, “Or-or a cardigan, or something!”

She frowned at him. What the hell was his problem?

“You’re in the greatest library in all the Kingdom and you’re concerned about trousers?” she queried, “I thought you were excited about this place.”

He looked around him as if suddenly brought back to the here and now.

“Yes, I mean, I was. I’ll just… go.”

He went, mumbling to himself all the while.

Vraska went back to her novel, absolutely sure this cottage the protagonists were decorating was cursed. They couldn’t have got their happy ending this early in the book. She was expecting some sort of war related ghost. Maybe some drowned sailors, that would certainly be exciting. As she read, she could faintly hear him moving about the enormous room. Every once in a while an ‘ooh’ or an ‘aha’ would echo off the high ceiling, joined by the creaking of a ladder on wheels. He got quieter and quieter as his exploration continued and soon she was back to how it always was – alone and indulging in other people’s lives. Undisturbed by men and their weird questions.

At least half an hour had passed when she heard his footsteps returning. He was stumbling slightly, as if running with something a little too heavy for him.

“Vraska!” he called, “Vraska! Vraska! Look what I’ve found!”

As soon as he was in sight, she gave him her best unimpressed stare. He instantly remembered his place, almost dropping the enormous scroll in his arms.

“I-I mean, Mistress, look what I’ve discovered!”

She beckoned him over and he quickly sat in the armchair beside hers, putting his giant scroll on the coffee table between them.

“Look at this!” Jace undid a small metal latch and the whole scroll unfurled upon the table. A quick scan told Vraska it was a map, an enormous one at that. Painted in beautiful detail, it displayed every forest and mountain rage in minute pictograms. Fancifully embellished with dragons amongst the snowy peaks and serpents amidst the waves.

“It’s a map of the continent,” Jace explained, voice full of excitement in awe, “I’ve seen town maps, city maps, a map of the country, but not one that goes this far! None of the places I’ve studied ever bothered teaching about what lay beyond their borders.Most people don’t care about what happens outside their region. But look at this! The whole continent!”

It was indeed one enormous landmass. The borders between kingdoms had been lined in gold, whilst each and every city had been labelled across the land.

“We’re here,” Jace said, pointing to a tiny picture of a castle beside a large dark green forest.

“This whole area is the Kingdom of Zotov,” 

She peered at it, noting the six different cities dotted between the gilt border lines.

“Where did you come from?” she asked.

He pointed directly outside the forest.

“There’s a village about there,” he said, “But before then, I lived in the city.”

He directed her attention to the closest city which stood near to the border to the Kingdom of Nalaar, looking out over the sea.

“Why did you leave?” Vraska asked, noting that there were three kingdoms total in their continent. Vrona, Zotov and Nalaar. She’d never met anyone from the neighbouring kingdoms. Her parents probably had, but when ambassadors had come to this place, she’d never been old enough to understand or care.

“Too many machines,” he explained, “There’s machines everywhere in the city. Monitoring the air, the water, the people. I couldn’t move outside without getting a headache from all that buzzing.”

There were machines in the castle, but all they did was help out the enchantments. Evidently they weren’t so bothersome here. Vraska scanned the map and took in all the places she’d never go.

“So what’s so extraordinary about a map? You’re not going anywhere.”

Jace looked at her as if she was missing the point entirely.

“This is proof that this library contains forbidden knowledge!” he exclaimed, “Knowledge you wouldn’t be able to find in the cities. All libraries, all schools, anywhere where people might learn, is _heavily_ moderated. The authorities don’t want you knowing anything that might challenge the fantasy this world has been shaped into. They don’t even want you to _think_ about other countries. Yet here we have a map with a whole three kingdoms! There’s going to be so much I’ve never read before!”

Vraska glanced at her novel. She knew there were a lot of books here but she’d never thought they would be anything controversial. This castle wasn’t exempt from the Kingdom’s censorship. Once upon a time it had even reinforced it However, if he thought he was going to find hidden secrets here, she wasn’t going to stop him looking. It would at least keep him quiet.

Over the course of the afternoon, Jace made several trips back and forth across the library. Each time with a new wonder that he was dying to show her. This ranged from beautifully illustrated books full of strange and wonderful animals, to guides for long-forgotten handicrafts, to a singular wooden duck he’d found tucked neatly into one of the shelves. Every time he returned, his face was full of awe and his eyes were bright with excitement at his latest discovery. Vraska did her best not to look interested, but as time passed and Jace kept coming back with more and more relics, she couldn’t help but look forward to his next visit. She’d walked these aisles many times. Scoured the spines for anything she might find interesting. Yet somehow, he was finding things she never had. Soon she had a pile of trinkets and treasures on the table before her. Old letters from Kings of Ages past, books full blueprints, loose parchment with handwritten love poems, an old fountain pen shaped into the likeness of a cat. He read to her voices long lost to time, showed her the locations of stars and even stumbled across a little red book of children’s rhymes and read a poem aloud she hadn’t heard since she was small. 

Finally, she got up and found him a large blank notebook, a selection of pens, and some ink. There was a small study attached to the library that she’d never used. It was tiny, dark and smelled of must. Yet inside, carefully preserved inside a locked cabinet, was a store of stationary. She fetched as much as she could carry, took a weathered old satchel out of the antique coat rack and deposited all these belongings in a chair, ready for his next visit. Once he did, he was almost bowled over her generosity.

“For me?” he gasped. She nodded.

“So you can write down any forbidden knowledge you might find,” she said, “Saves you running about the place, kicking up dust.”

“Thank you Vraska!” He exclaimed, “I’ll show you all my findings when I’m done! It'll be fascinating, I promise. There’s so much to discover here!”

She nodded her approval as he ran off back into the darkness. Realising too late that she hadn’t reminded him to call her ‘Mistress’, she merely sighed.. Ah well, nevermind. What really was a title except unnecessary formality? He seemed quite determined to uncover all the secrets in the Kingdom, and deliver them back to her on a silver platter. It was cute, how excited he was. Since when was there joy in her halls? Since when had anyone shared anything with her? She eyed the pile of trinkets on the table before, on top of which was a singular sheet of poetry. A sonnet, written by a knight for his lover, many centuries ago. There had been happiness in here, once. Maybe she could let him bring a little back.


End file.
